


Too Late For Us

by leavesofautumn



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Characters, Medical Procedures, Miscarriage, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavesofautumn/pseuds/leavesofautumn
Summary: A patient's surgical request forces Casey Ramsey to come face-to-face with an old flame.





	1. Chapter 1

Casey Valentine had been awake for nineteen hours now, staying well after her own shift to cover for another attending. The ICU had been a wreck all evening, and it reminded her why she had gone into Internal Medicine in the first place. The chaos here, the hopelessness as patients either clung to life by a thread or completely slipped away - it was draining in a way she’d never experienced. A septic patient had just coded an hour ago, dying beneath her hands, and as she’d watched the nurses zip up the body, she’d felt as though a piece of herself had been carted away with it.

She stepped off the main floor, disappearing into the office at the end of the hall. She closed the door behind her, leaning back against it as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. It had slowly become a mess as the night went on, and was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. With a sigh she slipped the elastic tie from her wrist and pulled it back into a harsh knot at the base of her neck.

She tried to tune out the commotion that was going on outside - just for a moment - but it was difficult to ignore. Monitors were beeping and ventilators were hissing and IV pumps were alarming and Casey just needed _ two minutes _ of silence…but _ of course _ that was too damn much too ask for.

Pulling out her cell phone, Casey checked her messages. She’d left a voicemail for Ethan earlier this afternoon, saying she needed to talk to him - just to hear his voice - because she was having an absolutely horrendous day…but he still hadn’t responded.

Knowing him, he’d probably left his phone in his hotel room again. He did that often these days, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him for being forgetful, what with the busy schedule he was keeping. He was in the midst of touring the country, giving lectures and meeting with boards over his latest and greatest medical breakthrough. It was important work, and she was proud of him for all he was accomplishing.

Because she’d always known he would do great things. Change the world.

She missed him while he was away though. She really did, especially on days like today. She tried to busy herself the best she could with work, covering for coworkers and taking on extra shifts, but none of that changed the fact that, at the end of the day, she was lonely.

Sure, Ethan came home every two weeks or so, but by the time he settled in it was practically time for him to leave again. Packing, unpacking, packing back up. It had become a tiresome circle, one that seemed never-ending at this point. 

Someone knocked on the door. She ignored it, looking down at her watch. Two minutes. Was _ two minutes _really so much to ask for?

_ “Dr. Valentine, the patient in room eight won’t sign her surgical waiver. Can you come speak with her?” _ a nurse asked from outside.

Casey turned and opened the door. “Which one is room eight?” 

She must’ve looked a frightful sight, because the nurse, a smaller woman in her early twenties, shrank back a little. “Daria Adams.”

Casey froze, holding out her hand expectantly for the patient’s chart. She knew that name. She knew it all too well. The nurse handed it over.

“_Dr. _ Daria Adams?” she verified, looking over the demographics.

The nurse nodded. “She says she used to work here. Wanted to speak to you personally regarding her care.”

“What does she need done?” Casey asked solemnly.

“A cardiac ablation. She keeps having runs of v-tach.”

Casey handed back the chart, folding her arms across her chest. “Right. I’ll go talk to her then. Check on six, will you?”

The nurse nodded, scurrying away as Casey took a deep breath, unsure how best to approach room eight and the woman inside it. Daria would be in her sixties now, and had been forced to retire as head of General Surgery at Edenbrook five years prior due to the development of Parkinson’s. It had made her a bitter woman, losing surgery, because it was all she’d ever really had in life.

She approached the glass door, sliding it open to peer inside. Daria was laying propped up in the hospital bed, looking frailer than most her age. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be fast asleep, even with multiple drips infusing and a set of defibrillator pads stuck to her chest.

Casey glanced up at the monitor, watching every few seconds as Daria’s heart rate doubled, changing waveforms before converting itself back to normal. This was a dangerous game she was playing, refusing to sign her surgical waiver. This needed to be corrected before it was too late.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking or are you coming in?” Daria asked, annoyance in her voice as she slowly opened her eyes and turned to look her way.

Casey slipped into the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

“Dr. Adams,” she greeted politely, nodding her head as she stepped forward.

“Dr. Valentine.” Daria looked her up and down, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s been a while...you look like shit.”

“Likewise,” Casey said, cracking a sad smile before masking her face with professionalism once more. “But enough with the compliments. Why did you refuse to sign your waiver? You of all people know the severity of your situation.”

“Because Dr. Erwin is a hack,” Daria said flatly. “I went to med school with him. He’s not going anywhere near my heart.”

“Dr. Erwin is a _ very _ competent surgeon,” Casey argued. “As well as your _ only _ option now that Dr. Morton has retired.”

Daria pulled her blanket down to her waist, hands shaking as she brought them neatly together and set them on her stomach. She smiled knowingly. 

“On the contrary, Dr. Valentine. I’ve already called in the Chief for approval on a transfer. I’m having a surgeon flown in from California. He’ll be doing my operation first thing tomorrow morning.” 

Casey felt like all the air had suddenly left the room. “Who did you request?”

As if she didn’t know. As if there was anyone else Daria Adams would trust with her life besides-

“An old student of mine. You may have heard of him,” Daria said bitterly. “He’s only one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the country, after all.”

Casey felt like she had just been slapped. Daria had never forgiven her for letting her star prodigy pack up and leave Massachusetts. She’d never had any children of her own, and that man had been like a son to her during their residency days.

But Casey could sympathize. After all, she’d lost him too. 

“I see you married,” Daria observed, nodding towards her hand. The diamond there weighed heavier in that moment than it had in all the years she'd worn it. “Anyone I know?”

“Dr. Ramsey,” Casey replied, fiddling the delicate band with her free hand.

“_Ethan _ Ramsey?” Daria snickered. “I sure hope he treats you better than he treated the surgical staff. That man was an absolute nightmare to work with. You would’ve thought the sun revolved around his head, the way he spoke to us.”

Casey went to defend him, but Daria waved her hand dismissively.

“I’m tired, Dr. Valentine. Let me sleep. Dr. Lahela should be in by nine tomorrow. I’ll sign the damned paperwork then.”

~)x(~

Bryce set his suitcase down on the bed in his hotel room, sighing heavily. The curtains had been left open by the staff, and below him the city of Boston was shining brightly through the rain that fell, lights coming alive in each of the tall buildings as the last bits of grey daylight fell away.

It had been so long now since he’d been to the East Coast. He’d forgotten how gloomy it was, how cold it could get. 

It had been seven years now. Seven years since he’d boarded a plane bound for central California. He’d taken nothing with him, save for a few bittersweet memories and the knowledge that below, somewhere in the airport, standing in the terminal, was a woman he was leaving behind.

The woman he had_ left _behind.

It had been a mutual agreement, his leaving. The right move for his career. But she hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t fought for him to stay like he’d hoped she would. No, instead after three years together they had simply…said goodbye. They’d spent one last night together - a night he would never forget - in the apartment they’d shared, and then in the morning she had driven him to BOS, her face stoic and devoid of all emotion.

Impassive. Unmoving.

She hadn’t even cried when he’d kissed her for the very last time. No tears, only a few simple words as she’d stepped away.

_ “We’ll keep in touch.” _

They hadn’t.

A part of him wanted to see her again, but the more rational part of him knew that wouldn’t be wise. He leaned against the windowsill, looking down at his left hand. The silver band on his third finger was a haunting reminder that their time together had ended long ago, and that he had finally moved on.

He’d married just six months ago, a simple courthouse wedding consisting of pen and paper to a man he’d called his best friend for over four years now. Eric Carson was a good man - easy-going and attentive, as well as understanding when it came to the long hours and complicated schedules of Bryce’s work. Neither of them were ever home much, but they enjoyed one another’s company when they were.

But they weren’t in love. Never had been. They were simply friends who hadn’t wanted to be alone anymore and had found solace in each other’s arms. Eric’s first partner had died a few years back, an apparent suicide, and Bryce had always known he would never amount to his husband even a fraction of the way that Lucas had. 

But that didn’t matter to him. Nor did the fact that Eric sometimes slipped up and called him Lucas in the dead of night. Hell, it’s not like he’d never called him Casey in return. They simply didn’t speak of it - a silent understanding - and that was the way things worked for them.

The one thing they did have though was trust, and that was precisely the reason he needed to stay as far away as physically possible from Dr. Valentine during his stay in Boston.

Because to this day, he’d never stopped loving her.

  
.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Casey hung back the next morning as everyone left for rounds, pausing by the empty locker next to hers in dismay. The lock had been removed by HR sometime between yesterday and today, the door now slightly ajar - tempting and mocking her all at once. She pushed it open, a hollow feeling blossoming in her chest as three blank walls stared back at her. _

_ Just yesterday she’d stood beside Bryce as he’d emptied it out, trying her best to remain supportive as she’d watched him take down the picture of the two of them that had been taped to the inner door for years now. He’d stared down at it fondly for a moment before turning away from her, not quite able to meet her eyes as he slid it into his bag without so much as a single word. _

_ She felt a tear slide down her cheek. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry yet, but knew it was long overdue. She’d wanted to stay strong this morning, to act as if she was indifferent to him leaving, but inside she felt as though she were dying. She’d never experienced pain quite like this before - so guttural and raw. It made her limbs feel leaden, her mouth taste like ash._

_ The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind. They’d walked home together the night before, hand-in-hand like they always did, but the air between them had been different - thick and somber - because they'd both known it would be the last time they’d ever do so. _

_ At home they hadn’t spoken more than a few words the entire evening, simply dancing around the inevitable as they’d placed the last of his things in boxes. _ _She’d been holding onto one of his shirts when he’d reached for it, and re_ _flexively she’d tightened her grip, refusing to let go as she’d stared up at him, eyes hard as she tried her damndest not to fall apart. _

_ A moment later he'd used it as leverage to pull her close, tossing it to the side as he pinned her to the wall and kissed her like a man possessed. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry that night, but he had. She’d tasted the salt on his tongue, seen the moisture on his cheeks as he’d reached for the button on her jeans, felt his hands trembling and body shaking as a surge of emotions overtook him completely. _

_ They’d made the most of those last few hours together, saying what they couldn’t speak in words with their bodies, lips and teeth in the silent darkness of the warm June night. They’d made love multiple times, and in the minutes between would simply lay loosely tangled in each other’s arms, staring up at the ceiling before eventually finding themselves enamored once more. _

_ Neither of them had ever fallen asleep, but the alarm still went off as scheduled, shattering the ignorant bliss of their inmitate cacoon and letting them know it was time to go. Casey hadn’t been able to look at him as she’d crawled out of bed, because she'd known if she looked at him she would've begged him to stay, to not leave her, to figure _ _something_ \- anything - _out. _

_ And she couldn’t do that to him. She loved him too damn much to take away everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. There was nothing left for him in Boston, save for her, and she knew that. The future of his career was out West. He would accomplish great things, but not here. _

_ Not with her. _

_ It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, because she’d still _ felt _ him in every step she’d taken with every last beat of her heart - a heart that'd shattered all the more with each passing minute as they'd slowly made their way to the terminal. _

_ He’d turned to her before boarding, stepping close, leaving no space between them, a hand lightly pressed to her waist as he’d kissed her tenderly; soft and gentle and over too damn soon. _

_ Her thoughts had run rampant as he'd kissed her, a thousand words on the tip of her tongue just _ _begging_ _ to be spoken aloud. _

I love you…I can’t live without you. We can make this work. It’s _ us_, and it’s worth it and -

_ “We’ll keep in touch,” is what she said instead, watching his face fall in disappointment before he turned and walked away. _

_ And then, just like that, he was gone..._

_...and she was alone. _

_ She couldn’t believe that had only been a few hours ago. Not even a day had passed since she’d last held him, touched him, kissed him…let him go. _

_ Christ…what had she _ done_? Why hadn’t she stopped him? _

_ “He’s gone…he’s really gone,” she whispered as the reality of it all sank in, taking a step backwards. Her leg hit the back of the bench and she slowly lowered herself to a seated position, staring up at his locker as silent tears streamed down her face. _

_ “Dammit, Rookie.” _

_ Ethan’s voice was quiet, empathetic as he entered the locker room and shut the door quietly behind himself. He didn’t hesitate in the way he normally did when they were alone. Seeing the state she was in he immediately crossed the room and sat down beside her, pulling her to his chest as he held her. She sobbed against his coat, embarrassed but unable to control herself. _

_ “He’s gone, Ethan,” she whispered in quiet, seemingly endless sobs, “He really left.” _

_ A slight hesitation, and then Ethan covered her hand with his, squeezing it in comfort, reassurance. _

_ “I’m still here, Rookie. I’m not going anywhere.” _

~)x(~

Casey awoke numb, staring at the ceiling. Ethan’s side of the bed was cold; he wouldn’t be home for another three days. She reached for his pillow, holding it close. It smelled like him, like home. _ This _ was home.

So why didn’t it feel that way? Why did she feel like a visiting stranger as she ghosted through her morning routine in the house she’d lived in for a half decade now?

She blamed the lack of sleep. She hadn’t gotten home until one in the morning, and it was only five now. She poured coffee, which helped a little, and made sure she was presentable before heading towards the door.

It was raining again, but a little rain never hurt. In fact it was peaceful to her, hearing it fall softly outside her door. She left her car keys on the counter, opting for an umbrella instead. It was only a mile to the hospital, and she felt like walking to clear her head.

Twenty minutes later she was stepping through the main doors of the atrium, getting on the elevator to head up to the Med-Surg floor - her regularly scheduled programming and safe haven - where things actually made sense to her.

She was here to diagnose, not work emergent care, and the start of her shift went by smoothly, as it always did when she was in her element. She interviewed patients, wrote orders, and nursed a second cup of coffee (that was only _slightly_ too bitter - a win when it came to the stagnent taste of K-Cup brews).

By nine though she’d run out of things to do. The morning was slow - too slow - and now she was pacing her office, unable to sit still, unable to focus. 

Because nine was when Daria had said _he’d_ be here. Somewhere within these walls, just the same as before, only different. A visitor. Something temporary.

If she didn’t see him today, nothing in her life would change. He would leave again, but it wouldn’t hurt this time, because this time she could pretend he’d never been here to start with. All she had to do was avoid him for one day.

It was as simple as that.

But life wasn’t simple, and Casey had very little self-control.

A few minutes later she was standing in the nearby elevator, tapping her foot impatiently and holding her breath as she rose to the seventh floor and got off at the ICU. She hesitated, finger hovering over the button that would take her downstairs again, then stepped off, standing there in the hallway without a single thought in the world as to what she was doing.

_ Checking in on Daria. That’s what a good doctor would do. That’s _ all _I’m doing. _

She pulled out her badge, scanned the keypad to the ICU, and stepped inside.

~)x(~

Bryce couldn’t believe he was inside the hallowed halls of Edenbrook Hospital again. So much looked the same, yet there were also subtle differences here and there that he hadn’t expected. Walking through the doors he noticed the floors were marble now, no longer the ugly beige tiles he’d walked across his very first day as a doctor, and the windows - they’d been tinted.

Why tint them? What did Boston have against the sun?

The staff was the biggest change though. A sea of strange faces stared back at him as he walked across the lobby, and in the one place he’d always thought of as home he suddenly felt as though he didn’t belong.

Like a stranger, lost and out of place.

He used to recognize everyone here by name, from the nursing staff all the way down to the custodians. He’d always made that a goal of his wherever he worked, because it really went a long way throughout the day to have allies.

And he’d certainly never had any of those amongst the other surgical residents during his stint here. They’d all hated him. Hated that he was far better than the lot of them and not ashamed to show it.

Hell, they’d probably thrown a party after he’d left.

He crossed to the elevators, getting in amongst a dense lot of people all ready to begin their day. He leaned over and pressed the button for the seventh floor, then hesitated, second guessing himself. ICU here was on the seventh floor, right? He raked his brain. The OR was on the fifth - he knew that by heart - and Med-Surg, the third.

Shit, he’d never forget _that_. He’d spent an ungodly, inappropriate amount of time there back in the day, avoiding paperwork duties to instead pester a certain auburn doctor, day in and day out…

Was that where she was right now? Did she have her own office? Was she sitting in there this very moment, sipping coffee in complete obliviousness to the fact that he was here? That they were _ both _ here, together again?

He hoped that was the case. It would make things easier. The only thing better would be if this was her day off.

The ICU was disturbingly calm. Everyone seemed to be resting peacefully, the only audible sounds the gentle beeping of heartbeats on monitors and ventilators snoring as their turbines whirled. Bryce made his way to the Charge Nurse, introducing himself, and was pointed in the direction of bed eight.

He pulled the curtain wide, letting the light from the hall stream into the room as he slid the door open and let himself in.

“As I live and breathe…” Daria said, turning to him with a warm, welcoming smile.

Bryce was taken aback. His old mentor looked far worse than sick - she looked downright debilitated. He realized then how long it had been since he’d last seen her. It shocked him, to say the least, as well as broke his heart. He bent down and pulled her against himself, holding her close as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“This isn’t how I wanted our reunion to go,” Bryce said with a sad bout of mock laughter, glancing over her shoulder at her cardiac monitor, which was alarming as the rhythm changed from sinus to v-tach and back again.

He pulled back, noticing her smile had grown sad.

“I had to get your attention somehow. You don’t write, don’t call.” She shrugged. “I get it though; you’re a big hot-shot now-”

“I've always been a big hot-shot,” he reminded her with a sly grin.

She laughed genuinely. “I’ve really missed you, kid. This place wasn’t the same after you left.”

“Are you still operating?” he asked, leaning back, one hand braced against the mattress, “Giving the new interns just as much hell as you gave me?”

Her smile disappeared. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

She held up her hands, which shook violently. Christ, her whole _arms_ shook. A knot twisted in his stomach.

“How long?” he asked somberly.

“Five years now,” she said, lowering her hands back down to the bed. “They booted me the day the symptoms began. Offered me severance and sent me on my way.”

“I’m so sorry. You must’ve been devastated.”

What surgeon wouldn’t be? You lose one or both of your hands in their line of work and suddenly you’re worthless; there’s no coming back from that. It was one of his greatest fears. Bryce needed surgery. It was who he was, who he’d always been.

“I was for a bit. But then I found a certain sense of joy in becoming a pain in the ass to my home health aide. She’s a sharp-tongued girl - reminds me of you most days - and our daily banter is what’s kept me going. Well, up until…this.”

Bryce was deadly serious as he reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze,

“This isn’t going to kill you, Adams. That’s why I'm here - to make _sure_ of that. After all, it’s just an ablation. I could do this operation blindfolded.” She suddenly looked nervous, and he added with a smile as he stood and reached for her chart, “Don’t worry - I won’t.”

He flipped to her notice of consent, pulling a pen from his pocket as he skimmed the page for the doctor’s signature line. When he finally found it he stiffened, his mouth suddenly dry.

“She beat you to it, sunshine. She was in here last night, badgering me,” Daria said quietly as he stared fixated on the name scrawled across the bottom of the page.

It was Casey…but not Valentine.

“She married _ Ramsey_?” he said in disbelief, turning to Daria with a look of disgust. "_Ethan _ Ramsey?”

Daria shrugged. “She still practices as Valentine, even though her legal name has changed. I guess it would’ve been confusing for the hospital to have two Ramseys.”

Bryce swallowed hard, turning the paperwork over and watching dejectedly as Daria attempted to sign it, the pen falling from her hand twice. 

“Casey Ramsey,” he whispered to himself, half in shock and half in horror, shutting the chart and tucking it under his arm.

“Did you expect her to wait forever?” Daria asked, her eyes falling to his ring. “_You _didn’t.”

~)x(~

Casey wasn’t in control of her body as she made her way to the Charge Nurse station, glancing down at the older woman poised behind the computer. Something she couldn’t quite stifle had carried her there, some impulse she couldn’t curb, some desire she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“Did the surgeon for bed eight arrive yet?” she inquired, cool and professional. “Adams was my patient last night, and I just wanted to make sure her treatment plan was all set.”

The young nurse from yesterday grinned, leaning over the counter to join in the conversation.

“The guy from California? Oh yeah, he’s here all right - in there right now, actually.” She elbowed the Charge. “Also, for an older man, can I just say…_yum_.”

The Charge Nurse whacked her coworker in the arm playfully, turning back to Casey.

“Apparently he is,” she said with a laugh, “You’re welcome to go on in if you need to discuss patient care with him."

Casey shook her head. “No, that’s quite alright. I just wanted to make sure everything was going as planned. I’ll check in with him later to see how things went.”

“He should be out of surgery by noon. You should catch him then, before he starts his lecture in the atrium,” the nurse suggested.

Casey raised an eyebrow. “He’s giving a lecture?”

The second nurse nodded enthusiasticly. “This is the man who re-invented the LVAD. I heard the Chief practically_ begged _ him to.”

Casey was well aware of Bryce's many successes. She nodded respectfully and stepped away from the counter.

“In that case, I’ll find him afterwards. Thanks.”

Except she wouldn’t. She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here - she never should have come up to the ICU in the first place. This was dangerous territory she was walking into, uneven ground that could slip out from beneath her feet at any given moment.

She went to leave the way she’d entered, then cursed under her breath, pausing to change direction and make her way out the back doors instead.

Because doing so would give her an excuse to pass by bed eight.

A room whose curtain had been left wide open. 

Casey came up short, having to pause and lean against the nearby counter for support as she suddenly spotted Bryce standing tall and dignified in the center of the small hospital room, a chart tucked under his arm as he spoke to Daria. She couldn’t hear his voice, couldn’t see his face, but she _ could _ see him _there_, just a few feet away, suddenly no longer a ghost or even just a memory…but a man. A man of flesh and blood.

She couldn’t tell if her heart leapt or broke in that moment…but oh, how it ached.

.

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Casey had fled from the ICU before he could turn around, before he could see her, stepping out into the hall with her heart hammering so violently she feared it may burst. She all but ran to her office, shutting the door and immediately locking it.

Why had she done that to herself? Why had she gone to see him? This was bad - _ very _ bad…because a glimpse hadn’t been enough. She wanted more, to speak to him, to - to what? She didn’t know. All she knew was he was _ here_.

She groaned, leaning forward to place her elbows on her desk as she buried her face in her hands. She sat there a long time before finally leaning back to stare up at the clock. It was nearly ten. Bryce would be in surgery now, hands delicate and sure as he worked inside of Daria’s chest.

She had no doubt in her mind that Adams would live. Bryce was as good as they came, she knew that much from following his career through medical journals. He was award-winning, and deserved every bit of the praise they said about him. 

She remembered watching his first solo surgery, sneaking into the gallery above the operating theater to do so. She’d been completely memorized as he’d worked. It was a miracle what the man could do with his hands, even back then.

But she couldn’t sit here thinking of his hands, or the _ many _ remarkable things she knew they were capable of - it would drive her mad to do so.

She went to stand up, pausing to stare down at her left hand as she pushed off the desk. Her wedding ring glistened in the bright white light, shaming her for the thoughts currently racing through her head. Thoughts of hands and skin and heat and -

She was _ married. _ Married to a _ good _ man who loved her more than anything…and she loved him in return. Maybe not as passionately as she had in the beginning, but he was still close to her heart, even while he was far away, even though they weren’t on the best of terms.

So why hadn’t she thought of Ethan even once this morning? Why had he been the farthest possible thing from her mind?

She forced herself back into work, making her rounds of the floor. She spent time getting to know her patients, pulling up chairs and leaning against doorways to listen and learn their stories, curb their fears. She had always found bedside manner to be one of the most important parts of medicine, because if the patient got to know you and believed you truly cared then they would trust in you and the treatments you provided.

But eventually she’d seen them all. Hoping it was late in the afternoon, she pulled out her phone, only to groan in frustration as she realized it was only half past one. 

In another half hour Bryce would be done with his lecture and out of her life for good this time. Things would go back to the way they were, how they were _ supposed _ to be. She just needed to stay put another thirty minutes.

Ten minutes later she was raked with nerves, cracking open the door to the atrium conference room, slipping quietly inside and hovering against the back wall. She had convinced herself it was closure. She would see him one last time - from a distance - and then watch him leave. 

Full circle. The end.

_ “…it’s actually fascinating, what we’ve done with this model. If you look up at the slide here you’ll see a comparison of the changes we’ve made to the internal framework…” _

His voice was just the same as she remembered, only deeper, if possible - more gruff. Matured. She swallowed hard, staring up at him. 

He looked so different from how she remembered. Like a stranger.

Even at thirty, he’d always had a boyish charm to his appearance, but at nearly forty it had disappeared completely. His jawline was harder and dusted with the light growth of a beard, his hair cut short and combed back, flecks of grey tinting the edges.

He was beautiful. Aged like a fine wine but still in the prime of life, dashing in black scrubs that hugged his body and showed off the impressive physique he still kept hidden underneath.

She was staring, not even listening as he spoke, drinking in her fill of him, raking him over and over again with her gaze, memorizing his every feature.

He was a stranger now, but a stranger she would recognize anywhere.

_ “Troubleshooting guides will still be color-coded,” _ he said as the slide changed, _ “This will help to avoid any confusion when the alarms go off, making it easier to-” _

She blinked, hearing his voice cut off abruptly. She looked up to his face, only to see him staring directly back at her, his brown eyes wide. She froze in place, stiff as a board, somehow managing a weak smile so she wouldn't look as completely _ terrified _as she suddenly felt inside. His eyes softened momentarily, then he tore his gaze away.

_ “Sorry about that - momentary distraction, folks. Now, where was I?” _

He turned back to the slide and continued to speak, but every other minute or so she would see his eyes dart back to her, his smile bright as they locked with hers.

She forced herself to look away, to turn and leave, exiting the conference room as she choked back tears.

_ Damn _ that smile of his. 

~)x(~

Bryce practically ran off the stage at the end of his lecture, searching the crowd for any signs of Casey. He knew he wasn’t mad - he’d _ seen _her - there in the audience, looking up at him.

He’d _ seen _ her and God…she’d been a vision. As beautiful as the day he’d left her, her wild hair pulled off to the side, allowing him to catch a full glimpse of her face, those green eyes curious, her lips slightly parted.

He couldn’t believe she’d come to find him. He’d done his best to avoid her, and for what? _S__he’d _ gone and sought him out anyways. But to what purpose, and where was she now? 

There was only one place he could guess she’d go to steal a moment of privacy for herself. She used to hide there when she was frightened, when she was overwhelmed. It had been the place they’d shared their very first kiss, after her first code. He stepped into the elevator, getting off on the third floor and making a sharp right turn.

There was a supply closet there, hidden at the end of the hall. He felt his throat tighten at the sight of the door. So many stolen moments, so many memories. He hesitated, then reached for the handle, pushing it open.

Casey jumped as light flooded the small room, spinning around to face him. Her vibrant eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d been crying. He felt his face fall at the sight of her - shaken, upset and vulnerable. She hated for anyone to see her as anything less than proud, less than strong. 

He slowly shut the door behind himself, the soft click the only sound in the otherwise deathly silent space. 

He leaned back against it, contemplating what to say, what to do - but words seemed useless. There _ were _ no words. It was _ Casey. _He pushed forward, closing the space between them as he wrapped her in a tight embrace, crushing her body to his. He held her like she was the only thing left anchoring him to this world, and she responded just the same. She clung to him, fists twisted in the back of his scrubs, quiet sobs against his chest as she nestled close to his heart.

One of his hands rose to the back of her hair, stroking it in a soothing motion. He’d waited seven years to see her cry over him, to show him she’d truly cared. Now, seeing her like this…he finally _ knew._ He knew she always had.

“I’m here, Case…I’ve got you,” he whispered, the words damn near stuck in his throat.

They stayed that way a long moment, simply holding each other. The two of them, they’d never been ones for speeches. Hell, they’d barely spoken the day he’d left, instead speaking _ this _language, body language, something they were both fluent in.

She finally pulled back, staring up at him with sorrowful, damp green eyes. Those eyes...they were so full of emotion, more so than he’d ever seen in a single person before. Hope, adoration, fear, lust, denial - her face spoke a thousand words.

“Bryce…”

He swallowed hard, hearing his name fall from her lips. It had been so long, and it made his heart clutch as it stirred memories deep inside him, like a lullaby long forgotten but still soothing nevertheless.

She reached up tentatively, her hands settling lightly on his chest. Could she feel his heart racing beneath her palm? He cupped her cheek in his hand, softly stroking it with his thumb. Had her skin always been this soft?

She closed her eyes a moment, seeming to favor that small caress, committing it to memory, then stepped away, shaking her head.

“I can’t…” she said quietly, her eyes falling to his lips, “I’m sorry, but I _ can’t_.”

“I wasn’t asking you to,” he replied solemnly.

Her face hardened. “You need to _ leave_, Bryce. Right now.”

He should. It was what was best for both of them. But he stayed anchored in place nonetheless, unable to take his eyes off her. It was like staring at the sun, dangerous and blinding, but also warming down to his very core.

“Only if you come with me,” he said, turning to place a hand on the door handle, “I’m not leaving you like this - not in here.”

She hesitated. “I need a minute. I don’t want to be seen…like this.”

She gestured to her face, wet and red.

“Take your time. I’ll be outside.”

He slipped out into the hall, shoving his hands in his pockets as he paced back and forth. Casey stepped out a moment later, head held high, figure poised, a flat expression on her face.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said with a professional air, smoothing down her pant legs, “I’m not sure what came over me. It’s been a long week.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t look at him. She’d done this before, he realized, the day he’d left - avoided how she felt, buried it. He reached out and placed a soft touch to her upper arm, giving her what he hoped was a kind and reassuring smile.

“Then how about you and I get out of here?” he offered, “Let’s go get a drink - for old time’s sake. Catch up on things.”

“I shouldn’t,” she mumbled, taking a small step back.

“Just one drink,” he promised, then grinned. “_Maybe _ two.”

He watched her fiddle with her hands, her fingers twisting her wedding ring back and forth anxiously. He felt numb inside, staring down at the large diamond nestled there. How did she work with that thing on? It was massive, probably cutting through her gloves on the regular. What was Ethan compensating for?

“I heard you got married,” he said as nonchalantly as he could, nodding to her hand.

“I did,” she said quietly.

He held up his left hand. Her eyes went wide as she spotted his band.

“So did I,” he said casually, dropping it back down. Her eyes followed the movement, face crestfallen.

“When?” she asked.

“About six months ago.”

She chewed her lip, not meeting his eyes. “Congratulations.”

He tried to smile, but it faltered. “How’s that drink sounding now?”

“Better and better by the minute,” she said, a weary tone in her voice.

_ Donahue’s_, unlike the hospital, hadn’t changed one bit. It was still dimly lit and grubby, and was a comforting sight for sore eyes as they stepped inside. They made their way to the bar, taking the last two seats in the back corner. He ordered a beer for himself and a cocktail for her, sliding it across the counter after the bartender brought it over. She caught it with deft fingers, a tight smile on her face as she scoffed.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” she said, eyes turning to sweep the room.

He felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a lazy smile. “Neither have I.”

He took a long swig of his beer, eyes falling back to her ring. That thing was so damn _ distracting _. 

“Do you mind if I ask who?” he asked, pointing to it.

She blinked. “Who what?”

“Who you married.”

He was feigning ignorance. It was a cruel thing to do, but he wanted to hear her say it, admit that she had replaced him with the one man she knew he could never stand. The man who had coveted her the entire time they’d dated, always placing light touches on her arm or the small of her back whenever Bryce was around.

“A co-worker,” she said simply, staring down into her glass.

“Let me guess - older man, notorious for having a stick up his own ass, probably around fifty now?” Bryce said dryly, raising his drink. Casey looked mortified. He took a sip before setting the bottle back down, twisting in his seat to face her. “You signed Adams’ paperwork with your legal name, Case. Can’t say hearing about it that way didn’t sting a bit.”

“You aren’t allowed to get mad over the fact that I moved on,” she retorted, eyebrows drawn together, “Not when _ you’re _ the one that left.”

“I’m not mad that you got married,” he countered, “Just a bit perturbed that you married _ him_.”

“He’s a good man,” she reasoned, but Bryce wasn’t convinced. “He_ loves _ me.”

Bryce snorted, “A good man, my ass. That prick never gave a damn about anythingbesides his career.”

“Then you and he are a lot alike that way,” she said icily.

Bryce flinched inwardly. He’d never seen such venom in Casey’s eyes. He leaned forward, challenging her gaze.

“I’m _ nothing _ like Ramsey,” he said flatly, “You know that. You _ know _me.”

“I _ knew _you,” she corrected, “A long time ago…in a different life. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Then get to know me,” he said, leaning back to settle into his seat. He turned to the bartender, ordering a row of shots, “Better yet, let’s make a game of it. We’ll both ask questions, and drink if when we don’t feel like answering. Sound good?”

“Fine,” she said, sliding a shot towards him, “I’ll start. Who did _ you _marry? What’s your wife’s name?”

Bryce felt his jaw tick. He raised the glass to take a drink, only to have Casey reach forward and cover the shot with her hand.

“Why is _ that _too personal?” she asked, “Is the name embarrassing? Is it something awful - like Winifred?”

He kept his expression neutral as he set the glass down. “It’s Eric.”

“Eric,” she repeated, realization dawning on her face.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked quietly.

“Why would it?” she said simply, “I always knew. You aren’t exactly a subtle man, Lahela.” She gave him a knowing look. “Your turn.”

“Okay, let’s see…” he tapped his fingers on the counter and shrugged, “Where…was the last place you vacationed?”

She made a move to raise her glass, then set it back down in defeat. “Cancun.”

His brows furrowed. “But that was-”

“With you?” She laughed dryly. “Ethan’s a busy man. We don’t exactly get a lot of time off.”

“You’re supposed to _ make _ time for that sort of thing.”

She gave him a deadpan stare. “We still can.”

Bryce grinned. “Yeah, but he’ll be retired by then.”

Casey’s expression grew horrified, but she lit up none the less, slapping his arm playfully. “You’re _ terrible_.”

“I’ve never claimed to be otherwise,” he said with a smile.

She paused, then eyed him narrowly. “What kind of money do you make? You’re a pretty big name now. I’m curious.”

He took a shot. “Stay curious. I don’t like to brag.”

She gave him a droll stare. “Liar. You _ love _to brag.”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, looking down at her. “See,” he said quietly, teasingly, “You _ do _know me.”

They went back and forth, taking shots and asking questions - some serious, some ridiculous. After a while, Bryce realized he was getting drunk. But it wasn’t a bad drunk - it was a relaxed, easy and _ fun _sort of drunk. They’d had so many nights like this together before. It was like reliving their youthful days again.

Casey was more than a little drunk later that evening when she turned in her seat to stare deeply into his eyes.

“I’ve got one!” she said, slapping the counter with her hand.

“Lay it on me,” he challenged.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, then slowly slid a shot towards him.

“Did you ever regret leaving?”

The question came out so quiet he barely heard it, like she had been afraid to ask. He reached for the shot, tapping the side of the glass with his finger. But by now, what was the point in denying it?

“I still do. Every damn day of my life,” he said in all honesty. He sighed deeply, turning towards her with a scrutinizing expression. “That was pretty damn personal, Ramsey. Are we doing _ personal _ questions now?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I suppose we are. Come on, then. Hit me with your worst.”

He did. 

“Do you ever think of me while you’re fucking your husband?”

It was out of line, but he was too drunk to care and _ had _ to know.

He’d expected her to get angry, maybe to go as far as to slap him, but instead her cheeks flushed red. She reached for the shot in front of him and tipped it back, never breaking eye contact with him as she drained it to the very bottom. He felt himself grow hard for her.

“You’re_ despicable,_” she said as she set the glass down.

He shrugged, and she narrowed her eyes at his nonchalance.

“I mean it, Lahela. That was a low blow.” She signaled for the bartender to bring another round. “But I suppose two can play this game.” She leaned forward, as if to divulge a great secret. “Do you still love me?”

Damn her. He took a shot.

“Chicken,” she chided, her words slightly slurred.

He chewed his lip, thoughtfully, then said, “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. It wouldn’t make a difference either way.”

Her face fell as she stared down at their rings. “No…I suppose it wouldn’t.” She looked up at him, studying his face. “Was it weird for you? Falling in love again?”

He all but snorted. “Eric and I have never loved each other.”

“Then why get married?”

He gave a half shrug. “I was lonely. He was too. It was convenient.”

“That’s…sad.”

“Well, we can’t all have happy marriages, Case. Some of us take what we can get.”

Her voice was hollow as she spoke. “I never said mine was happy.”

A tense silence fell over them, and Bryce pushed the shot glasses away, his eyes hard as he stared down at her.

“I think the game is over,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“It’s getting late anyways. I, um…I need to head home,” she agreed.

She went to stand and wobbled. Instinctively he stood, grabbing her arm to steady her.

“Since when are you such a lightweight?” he asked mockingly. She used to be able to drink him under the table.

“Since I became a borderline alcoholic three years ago and cut myself off for a bit,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor as she spoke.

He waited to see if she was joking. It didn’t appear so, and his heart sank. What the hell had happened to her?

He pulled cash from his wallet and dropped it on the counter, turning to place his arm across her shoulders as she lazily looped hers around his waist, leaning into him as he walked them outside.

The sun was starting to set. They stood at the curb, waiting for a cab to pass.

“It’s not very far,” she said, “I can walk home. I’ll be fine.”

He looked down at her sternly. “You’re drunk, Ramsey. I’m not letting you walk anywhere.”

“Don't call me that,” she said, annoyance in her voice.

“Why not? It’s your name.”

She didn’t reply, and after a moment he sighed, caving in.

“Alright, we’ll walk. Come on.”

He turned left, starting down the sidewalk, but she fell back, catching his hand.

“Bryce…it’s this way,” she said, tilting her head to the right.

How stupid of him. He must’ve been more drunk then he realized, because left had been the way to their old apartment. He was auto-piloting to a place that didn’t exist anymore. At least not for them.

“Come on, you,” Casey said wearily, “I’ll lead the way.”

There was a far off look in her eyes as they walked, her footsteps much too fast as she stepped out in front of him. He reached for her hand, pulling her back down to Earth.

“Hey Case…what happened three years ago?” he asked quietly.

Her expression was guarded as she pulled her hand away. She smiled sadly. “We’re not playing that game anymore.”

He didn’t ask again, but every scenario in his head grew more and more worrisome as they turned the corner to reveal a row of elegant townhomes.

“This one,” she said, grabbing onto the arm he offered to help her up the stairs.

Bryce glanced up at the building. It was old but elegant, with large windows and a balcony. He wondered how many nights she’d stood at that balcony, looking out over the street with the moonlight in her hair.

She pushed open the door, revealing a home straight out of _Better Homes and Gardens _ magazine. It was pristine - too tidy, in fact - to the point where it barely looked lived in.

“You can come in,” she offered, “I’m gonna put on some coffee.”

Bryce was apprehensive, but stepped through the doorway anyways. She walked ahead of him, turning down the hall into a large kitchen with stark white walls and speckled countertops. He wandered into the living room adjacent, curious.

Where were all her photos? Back in the day their apartment together had been lined with photos - she’d covered the walls and every surface imaginable with them, all of her favorite memories captured in mismatched frames that she’d found at thrift stores.

He eventually found them, only two of them, their frames catching his eye as he walked past the mantle of her fireplace. One was black and simple, and had her wedding photo in it. She stood there smiling, bright as the sun, her hands clutching a bouquet of yellow roses, her hair curled and piled atop her head elegantly. Ethan’s arm was placed around her waist, his smile much more composed and subtle. It was almost offensive. Did he not know how lucky he was? Bryce reached up, carefully setting the frame face down. He didn’t want to look at it.

The second was a thin, golden frame, metal and ornate. The woman smiling in it was familiar, and made his heart ache.

“Teresa Martinez,” he sighed, picking up the frame and turning to lean against the wall as he held it up to the light. God, what a mess they’d made for themselves over this woman their intern year. But he could see in her cheesy grin that it had all been worth it. He knew she’d died happy, finally seeing the city of her dreams.

“I keep that there to remind me that certain things are worth taking risks for,” he heard Casey say humbly.

She held out a cup of coffee for him, which he took gratefully. She stared down at the photo of Mrs. Martinez standing in the heart of France.

“Sometimes the best moments in life are brief,” she said softly, stepping back to face him, “But that doesn’t mean they weren’t worth living.”

He was quiet as he set the photo back on the mantle, contemplating her words.

“No other photos?” he asked, moving to take a seat on the couch.

“Ethan’s never been one for pictures. I have a few more, I think, stashed somewhere…”

She sighed, deep in thought as she looked about the room, sitting down in the chair opposite of his.

“What did you do with all of ours?” he asked quietly.

Had she burned them? Thrown them out? 

“They’re in the closet,” she said without even having to think twice. “They’re one of the only things I kept from the mess you left me with.”

What must that have been like for her? Having to sort through all his things, heartbroken as she must’ve been? He’d left damn near everything behind for her to deal with.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m not,” she replied, a faint smile on her lips as she took a sip of coffee, “That was one hell of a night.

He didn’t reply to that. Instead he watched as she yawned, setting her cup down. She looked exhausted, about to pass out right there where she sat.

“Let’s get you in bed, Case.”

She didn’t even fight it as he set his cup down and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet with ease. She only wobbled slightly now, but he still guided her, leading her towards the back bedroom. He tried not to stare at the bed as he entered, tried not to think of her and Ramsey and every which way the man had ever taken her, but it was difficult not to imagine. He closed his eyes in disgust, feeling bile rise in his throat.

She crawled onto the bed, flopping onto her back as she looked up at him, a sudden sadness in her eyes.

“Wait...you’re not leaving, are you?” she asked, sitting up to stare at him, “You could stay the night, you know. I wouldn’t mind. I don’t like the idea of you wandering the city this late - and half drunk, at that.”

He sighed, running a hand back through his hair in frustration. “It isn’t a good idea for me to stay the night, Case. Ethan might get the wrong idea and-”

“Ethan won’t be home for days, and what’s more, it’s not like I’m asking you to stay _ with _ me. Just to stay…in general.” She sighed. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight. I’m alone so much these days.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut. “Fine. I’ll be out on the couch if you need me.”

She smiled contently, turning her head into her pillow, eyes closing. She muttered two little words as she fell asleep. 

“Thank you.”

Bryce closed the door to her bedroom, leaning back against it with a groan. What the Hell was he still doing here? 

His eyes fell to the hall closet, where she’d said their pictures were. Had she been lying, or had she really kept them? Curiosity won out, and he crossed the living room to open the door, his eyes surveying its contents.

There wasn’t much. A few coats, an old leash hung up on a metal hook (had they had a dog at some point?), and some boxes stacked neatly on the shelf above. He looked up at the boxes, one in particular standing out to him. It was no bigger than a shoe box, and had been sealed with thick strapping tape.

He pulled it out, walking over to the kitchen counter where he pulled out a knife and ran it along the seal before setting it down. He pulled the folds of the box open, staring down at the contents in disbelief, a sad smile on his face.

He placed his hand inside, pulling out a stack of photos held together with a thick rubber band. He yanked off the band, flipping through them absentmindedly. Photos of them in Cancun…at Edenbrook…in her old condo with her roommates from residency.

They were all still here. She’d saved them all.

There were other things in the box as well. Small things, but things she’d obviously felt the need to keep. The diamond necklace he’d gotten her for her twenty-ninth birthday, a stone she’d kept from their weekend getaway in the mountains their first summer together, movie stubs and events tickets from dates they’d been on.

And, underneath it all, his old scrub cap. 

He scoffed, picking it up. It was made of solid black fabric with his last name embroidered in bold teal letters that matched his Edenbrook scrubs. He’d wondered where this had gone. He’d worn it his very first surgery, the one Casey had borrowed his badge for to sneak in and watch.

He placed it in his pocket before re-sealing the box best he could and returning it to the closet. Then he sighed, figuring it was time to at least _ attempt _ to get some sleep. He walked down the hall, searching for the bathroom so he could splash some water on his face before laying down.

But the door he decided to try first wasn’t a bathroom at all…but a bedroom. 

A _ nursery._

He stepped inside, feeling numb as he noticed a variety of boxes stacked inside the crib and laid out across the floor in a haphazard fashion. The room was a wreck, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. A single ultrasound image had been left sitting out on the dresser pressed up against the wall. He picked it up, staring at the date.

It was stamped three years ago..and suddenly he knew exactly what had happened to Casey. What had happened to her marriage. Why she didn’t like to be alone. Why Ethan felt the need to travel so often, to get away from it all.

He didn't even pause to contemplate his actions. He simply went to her.

He opened her bedroom door and stared down at her, fast asleep, curled up so small she might disappear…and he grieved. His heart bled right there where he stood. He kicked off his shoes, walked to the opposite side of the bed, and pulled the covers aside. He set his watch on the nightstand and then turned to her, pulling her against his chest as he laid down beside her.

She nuzzled close to him, a peaceful sigh escaping her.

“Bryce?” she muttered, half-asleep.

He bent down and kissed her forehead, running a hand through her hair to brush it out of her face.

“I’m right here, Case. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

She mumbled his name again, almost desperately as her fingers wound into his clothes, then fell silent, dozing off again.

Bryce stared up at the ceiling as he listened to the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, feeling his eyes begin to water. He thought of Eric - back home, waiting for him. His dearest friend…his companion…his lover. Bryce knew then and there that their marriage was over. 

Because Casey needed him…and he needed Casey.

.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

_ It was late in the morning, the sun already streaming in through the gauzy white curtains and spilling across the bed sheets. Casey was tangled loosely in his arms, her auburn hair soft, fanned out across his chest, her naked leg wrapping his as she slept. _

_ Bryce didn’t dare move, didn’t dare disturb this moment. She smelled like vanilla and sea salt, parts of her skin red from overexposure, other parts sweetly tanned from their week spent laying out under the Caribbean sun. He lightly traced the curves on her body with his fingertips, as if to commit her shape to memory. _

_ They would be flying back to Boston tonight, nine hours spent in the sky before finally touching back down to reality, back to work at the hospital where the hours were long and draining. _

_ Nine more hours. That was all they had left _ _ to pretend that their lives didn’t revolve around blood, tears, death, and sorrow. _

_ Nine more hours before going back and realizing their final year of residency was quickly coming to a close. _

_ Nine more hours before he'd be able to check his messages to see whenever or not West Central Regional had been serious when they’d sent him an offer too generous to refuse. _

_ Casey stirred, eyes slowly opening as she looked up at him with the sweetest of smiles plastered on her face. _

_ “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse. _

_ He gave her a gentle squeeze, leaning down to kiss her. _

_ “Mornin’, sunshine,” he said softly against her lips. _

_ Her face fell as she turned to look out the window, resting her warm cheek on his chest. _

_ “Do we really have to leave?” she asked. _

_ He laughed, lifting a hand to stroke her hair. “I’m afraid so.” _

_ “Just one more day,” she pleaded, propping herself up on her elbows to look down at him, “One more day of this…” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, leaning back to sit on her knees, straddling either side of his hips. She placed her hands on his chest and lightly dragged her nails down towards his abs. He felt a pleasant shiver run up his spine. “One more day…just for us.” _

_ He grinned, grabbing her by the waist and flipping them so that she was pressed beneath him, her laughter infectious as he nuzzled her neck with kisses, nipping at her the base of her earlobe. _

_ “All my days are for us,” he whispered against her skin. He ran a hand slowly over her hip, settling it on her slender waist. “Today, tomorrow…every day.” _

~)x(~

Bryce awoke with a raging headache, eyes stinging and head splitting. He looked around, momentarily confused by his surroundings, then felt an arm tighten around his waist.

Casey was still asleep, he realized, nestled under his arm, her small body tucked around his, his sheltering hers protectively. He felt his heart race, looking down at her. This was far too intimate, and he knew it should feel wrong.

But nothing had ever felt more right. 

He lifted his free hand to push a strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. As he gazed down at her, he noticed the small differences age had bestowed upon her features. Laugh lines around her mouth, tiny silver streaks at the top of her crown, crinkles in the corners of her eyes. 

She was positively endearing. 

He let his hand drift downward, across the length of her arm and over the curve of her hip before letting it fall away against the bed sheets. 

He couldn’t keep touching her, especially with how hard he’d awoken - and still in his scrubs at that. The thin material didn’t exactly conceal that sort of thing. He crossed his legs, sighing in frustration.

She would be the death of him.

“Quit moving around,” he heard her mumble as she playfully slapped his chest, “Some of us are hungover.”

“Try both of us,” he said with a laugh that made his head pound.

Casey smiled, turning her head. Her eyes peeped open and she looked up at him, her face suddenly shy as she noticed the way they were laying.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he whispered as their eyes met.

She was quiet a moment. “When do you have to go?”

He glanced over at the nightstand where his watch was laid out, then snickered.

“Only…three hours ago,” he said with a groan, propping them up. She lingered there a half second, leaning against him, and he almost didn’t let her go as she finally moved to stand.

She stretched as she stood, and he couldn’t help but stare as she lifted her clasped hands above her head, the small of her back curving deliciously inward.

“Someone still does yoga,” he observed with a lazy smile.

Casey blushed, dropping her arms as she moved to the doorway. She didn’t reply to his comment, but her smile was soft as she turned around.

“Ibuprofen?” she offered.

“_Please_,” he replied, finally daring to stand as well. The room spun slightly as he did so. He bent down to pull on his shoes, then made his way to the kitchen, leaning against the side of the fridge as he watched Casey stand on the tips of her toes to try and reach the bottle of medication sitting atop her cabinets.

He sighed, stepping forward to reach over her head and pluck the bottle from the shelf, setting it down on the counter in front of her before turning away to pull out his phone. He checked the flights, then re-booked the next one out of Boston. It left at noon. 

Casey placed a light touch to his shoulder and held out four little pills for him to take. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Bryce felt his face fall.

“I need to leave now,” he said quietly.

Casey nodded stiffly. “I know.”

He didn’t know if he could bare to say goodbye to her again, but he knew he had to. As much as he wanted to stay, he had business to take care of back home. 

What’s more, Casey had Ethan. Even if Bryce only re-entered her life as a friend one day, he could still see her husband being a very large barrier between the two of them.

Casey walked him to the front door and stopped, twisting her hands together as she turned to face him. She looked as if there were a million and one things she still needed to say, as if she would stop him this time, but after a moment she simply stepped aside. He reached out his hand as he passed, giving her arm a gentle and comforting squeeze.

She smiled, tears in her eyes. 

He nodded his head.

They were never ones for speeches. 

But they both knew…

…and it was easier this way.

After picking up his suitcase from the hotel he ordered a car to take him to the airport. On the way there he stared out the window, lost in thought, contemplating everything and anything - but mostly her.

He pictured Casey in his head, moving about her empty house once more, alone with nothing but old photos and an empty nursery to keep her company.

He almost told the car to turn around. 

But then he thought of Eric, also at home and all alone, and kept quiet.

When he walked through the door that evening his husband was waiting up for him, stretched out lazily on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles with a book in his hand, one arm propped up behind his head. His glasses were riding low on his nose and his blonde hair dangled down in front of his eyes. He looked so relaxed, so at peace. 

It crushed Bryce.

“There you are,” Eric said with a smile, setting the book aside as he stood up, “I was about to send out a search party. Shouldn’t your flight have landed hours ago?”

“I got held up,” Bryce said, monotone as he set his bag by the door.

He glanced around their condo, his eyes drifting over the bits and pieces of their shared life together. Everything suddenly seemed so foreign to him, so out of place.

It suddenly didn’t feel like home.

“You okay?”

Eric must’ve seen something in Bryce’s face that unsettled him. He moved towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bryce stiffened under his touch.

“Bryce, talk to me. You’re freaking me out.”

Bryce scoffed, moving to the kitchen table and taking a seat. He ran his hands down his face with an exasperated sigh, then shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Eric pulled out the chair opposite his. “Did the patient not make it?”

Bryce grimaced. Of course Eric would assume this was about the patient. He shook his head, staring down at his hands, twisting his wedding ring.

“Is this about Dr. Valentine?” Bryce looked up, seeing Eric’s face grow empathetic. “You saw her…didn’t you? At the hospital.”

Eric knew all about Casey. He’d told him about her countless times in countless stories. His partner in crime throughout residency, the first and only person he’d ever loved, the one that got away. 

“I did.”

“Oh.” Eric was quiet a long moment. “Did you two, um-?”

“_No,” _ Bryce said, ending _ that _conversation before it even began.

“But you wanted to,” Eric assumed.

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Eric was a psychologist. He always knew everything about everything, and had been able to read Bryce like an open book ever since the day they’d first met.

“I still love her,” Bryce said bleakly, staring down at the floor. He felt his eyes water. “I do, I never stopped. It’s _ always _been her. I don’t know what else to say, Eric…except that I’m sorry.”

Eric took a minute to absorb that.

“Don’t be,” he finally said.

Bryce looked up at him, confused, and Eric sighed, reaching for his hands. He took them in either of his, stroking his thumb over Bryce’s wedding band with a sad smile.

“Bryce, I care about you. You’re a good man and a good friend. That’s why I married you. But you should also know that if Lucas were still alive…if there were _ any _way I could have him back…” He batted away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. “…I would. In less than a heartbeat, I would go to him.” 

He opened Bryce’s hand, pulling the silver band from his finger in a single, fluid movement. “Your Lucas is still out there, babe. Don’t settle for less. Not for me. I’ve always known what we are.”

He stood up and moved to leave the room, pausing to turn back to him as he entered the bedroom.

“And hey - don’t worry about me…okay? I was fine before you. I’ll be fine after. But I don’t want _ you _ to have to settle for fine. I want you to be happy. You still have a chance at that...don’t waste it.”

~)x(~

After changing her clothes, Casey stepped out into the golden afternoon sunlight. She started walking, not sure where she was going, simply knowing she needed to get out of the house, a house that was once more as empty as she always felt inside.

She thought about calling Ethan to check-in with him, then realized it wasn’t his voice she was craving. The breeze drifted through her hair and she closed her eyes, smelling whatever cologne Bryce had been wearing. He was still on her skin, still on her mind - and she missed him terribly.

She remembered waking up to him, his heartbeat in her ear, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. She’d stayed deathly still, not wanting him to stop, simply wishing she could stay in that moment just a little while longer.

Because waking up like that she’d felt safe, comfortable…maybe even loved. He’d held her like he treasured her, just the same as he had all those years ago. As if she was a precious flower he would crush if he squeezed too hard, or a piece of paper he would lose with the wind if he ever let go.

When she finally returned home she immediately went to the hall closet, pulling down the box of their old pictures. She’d taped it shut years ago to stop herself from looking at them, to help her find some sense of closure. 

She chuckled when she noticed the tape had been torn and replaced.

Of _ course _ he had.

She pulled out the stack of photos, setting the box aside, and sank right there to the floor in the middle of the living room as she sifted through them, setting them down one by one on the carpet in front of her.

They weren’t just photos of her and Bryce. They were photos of _ everyone _from back then. From their old life. Elijah, Sienna, Jackie…all together. All smiling and laughing and planning their futures like any of them had a clue. 

Casey’s heart sank as she picked up one of her own face. A face so free and happy, so adventurous. 

So in love.

She scooped up the photos, placing the box back in the closet, then leaned against the wall, holding up her hand, staring at her ring. She slipped it off her finger, setting it on the table in front of her. Just for moment, she told herself, just to see what it felt like.

And nearly choked on her tears when she realized it felt as though a great weight had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders, like she was at last free of expectations and pretending. Like she was finally herself again, instead of a failure of a wife and mother.

She turned towards the door to Rose’s nursery, pushing it open. It had been so long since she’d been inside this particular room of the house. It felt like walking into a morbid shrine. It was dim and depressing, not at all cheery and bright like it would've been had her daughter actually made it home that night.

The boxes of baby things were just as she’d left them, stacked in teetering piles all over the place. It had been utter heartbreak to seal everything up, and Casey hadn’t had the strength to carry them out the door afterwards. So instead she’d gotten hopelessly drunk that night. She’d laid on the floor next to the crib and cried, clutching a small, unused blanket to her chest as she wept for the child she would never get to know.

Ethan had found her there when he’d gotten home that evening, but he hadn’t known what to say, what to do. She’d needed him to hold her, to tell her that everything would be alright. That she would make it through this - that _ they _would make it through this.

But he’d simply turned away from her and locked himself in his office down the hall, grieving in his own way; in solitude, far far away from her. 

He never really came back after that.

And she couldn’t really blame him.

But this wasn’t the way she wanted to spend the last forty years of her life. In a haunted house, in a resentful and guilt-ridden marriage.

She emptied out the nursery that day, some things left on the curb, some things taken to the back of her car to be donated. She kept the ultrasound photo, placing it in the box in the closet, and then simply stood in the center of the room, feeling oddly at peace.

Feeling like Rose could finally rest.

She got called into work that evening to fix some paperwork that had been filed wrong. It only took an hour of her evening, and then she was headed back home.

Ethan was waiting for her when she opened the door, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. He was holding her ring in one hand, and a watch in the other.

Casey’s heart stopped when she recognized it.

“You’re home early,” she observed, swallowing hard.

“And you’re not wearing your ring,” Ethan countered, speaking quietly. He didn’t look up at her as he set it aside and stood, the watch in his outstretched hand.

“Can I ask who this belongs to?” he said.

He voice wasn’t angry. Simply…hurt. Defeated.

“A friend,” Casey replied, apprehensively setting her keys on the counter as she entered the room, “I had company over last night. They must’ve left it.”

Ethan finally looked up at her, eyes weary. He looked utterly exhausted. Traveling always made him look so tired. Or was it age, finally catching up with him?

“It was on my nightstand, love.”

She leaned her hip against the counter. “That’s because they spent the night - but not like that. Not in the way you’re thinking.”

His face was stoic. She honestly couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. 

“I just want to know _ who_,” he whispered.

She bit her lip. How could she tell him, knowing how it would make him feel? Knowing it would hurt him? She’d never wanted to hurt him, ever, but she had over the years, time and time again.

“Bryce was in town,” she said after a long, tense moment.

She watched Ethan’s fingers close around the watch, knuckles whitening. He set it down on the countertop, one hard and fluid movement, the glass face down. She wondered if it had cracked. It sounded like it had.

“How often?” Ethan asked dryly, stepping to the side. He raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in exasperation. “Does he fly in regularly while I’m away, or was this a special occasion?”

Casey took a deep breath, calming her nerves. “This is the first time I’ve seen him since he left, Ethan. I _ swear _ . He flew in at the request of a _ patient - _ not me - to do a surgery. No other reason.”

He dropped his hand away, turning to look at her, eyes hard.

“He was in our house, Casey. In our _ bed._”

There was no use in denying it. “He was.” 

He glanced over to the table, at her ring. “Are you leaving me?” He swallowed hard. “For him?”

She didn’t know if she could do this, not now. She felt her eyes begin to water.

“I don’t know…” She looked down at the watch. “But if I do, it wouldn’t be for him. It would be for me.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed. “For you?”

Casey shrugged weakly. “I can’t live like this any more, Ethan. I can’t. It’s too hard - too lonely. You’ve barely looked at me…barely touched me since we lost Rose. And we don’t talk about it, but we _ need _ to talk about it. To talk about us, and the _ lack _ of us_._”

Ethan stiffened, turning to look down the hall towards what would’ve been his child’s bedroom, his eyes distant. 

“I can do better,” he said, determination in his voice as he turned back to her, “_We _can do better. We can move past this. Start over.”

“Move past this? Ethan, it’s been _ three years_. Three years of two-word conversations and half-ass attempts at intimacy. Three years of me _ pretending _ that I’m happy - of you running away, again and _ again _-”

“And yet I’ve never _ once _ cheated on _you_,” he spat, his jaw ticking with a spark of temper.

Casey clenched her teeth, holding her own. “Neither. Did. _ I_.”

Ethan scoffed, tossing his hands up in defeat as he gestured towards the bedroom.

“Cut the crap, Casey - that entire room _reeks _of him! I mean really, of _all _people - why _him_? He _left _you! Do you not remember that?” His voice cracked as he took a step forward, reaching out to take either of her arms in his hands. He squeezed them gently, eyes red. “I was there for you after he tore your heart out. That man left you so broken...and it took me _so_ long to put you back together again.” He swallowed hard. “But I did, bit by bit…and we were happy. _So _happy together, for _so_ long…”

Casey felt a tear slip down her cheek. “And what about now, Ethan? Are you happy now?” She felt herself shaking. “Because I’m _ not.” _

She was freely crying now, a dam bursting inside of her as Ethan pulled her into his arms, holding her there as she fell apart. She wrapped her arms around his waist, gripping him tightly. It was the closest they’d been in months. She treasured it in every way. 

One last embrace…one to commit to memory. One to savor.

And then she let go. 

She stepped back.

She looked up at him, reaching for her ring, then took his hand and pressed it into his palm. 

She closed his fingers around it, sealing it with a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Ethan. I _ do_,” she choked out, looking up at him. She squeezed his hand in hers. “But that’s not enough anymore. I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling hard as he pulled his hand away.

“I am too.”

.

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

Casey moved out two weeks later. She didn’t take much with her, since she would be staying at a hotel until she figured out a more permanent solution, only what would fit in her car. A few boxes of clothes and shoes, her photos, her make-up and soaps from the bathroom - the simpler, smaller things she possessed.

But every piece of furniture she’d left behind. Every dish they’d ever made dinner on, every blanket they’d ever wrapped around each other. She didn’t want ghosts to follow her, and knew the less she took with her, the less she’d linger on the past. She had a few images of them together on her computer. That would be enough for her, she supposed, if she ever felt the need to look back fondly and remember the good times.

Ethan had stayed with her during the transition. He hadn’t left again, hadn’t buried himself in his work. He’d simply stood by her side, helping her pack, handing her things he thought she’d need out there in the world. He was quiet, resolute. Sincere.

It almost made it difficult to go.

“What should we do with this?” he’d asked solemnly one afternoon, taking their wedding photo off the mantle. His eyes had been hollow as he’d clutched the frame in both hands.

Casey had placed a tender hand on his shoulder, leaning into him. “I think you should keep it. You were right before, when you said we were happy together for a long time. Let this be a reminder of that.”

On the night before she’d left they’d made love one last time. She would never forget it. He’d appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, disheveled from sleeping on the couch, and she hadn’t thought it over - she’d simply seen the haunted look in his eyes and had pulled him down to her. It had been slow and agonizing, as well as tender and forgiving. In the aftermath he’d held her tightly for one long, perfect moment before slipping from the room to give her the solitude she’d needed.

She’d cried herself to sleep that night, her heart torn freshly in two, but had awoken ready to start anew. She’d kissed him goodbye in the kitchen, a sweet, brief kiss, leaning her forehead against his afterwards as he’d brushed his fingertips down her arm.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he’d whispered, “Where do I go from here?”

“Wherever your heart takes you,” Casey had replied softly, cupping his jaw with a sad smile before stepping away.

She’d turned back once in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He’d stood there in the kitchen, one hand in his pocket.

“Thank you, Ethan,” she’d said quietly, “For understanding. For…everything.”

He’d nodded. “Take care of yourself, Casey.”

It had been a month now, and she was still at the hotel. Still walking on eggshells every night after work, unsure of what to do next, where to go.

Who she was.

She buried herself in work, her solution to everything. Extra shifts floating around the hospital, being careful not to bump into Ethan, knowing he would need time to heal now that they’d officially signed the paperwork declaring themselves divorced in the eyes of the state.

She was working downstairs one morning, an extra hand in the ED, when a familiar face rolled in through the ambulance bay on a stretcher.

The medics slid the woman over to an open hospital bed, the one turning towards Casey to give report.

“Sixty-two year old female, fall from a standing position. Struck her head on the bedside table, unsure if she lost consciousness. Her home health aide found her on the floor. We patched up her head, but it’s pretty deep. She’s probably gonna need a few stitches. History of GERD, Parkinson’s-”

“Yes, yes. Dr. Valentine and I are _ well _acquainted. No need to drone on and on, young man,” Daria said, shooing the EMTs away with her hand.

Casey smiled, turning to sign their tablet, transferring patient care into her name.

“Don’t mind her,” she told them with a wink, as if it was some big secret, “She’s actually a sweetheart deep down.”

The medics laughed and departed while Daria groaned, picking at the bandage on her forehead.

Casey swatted her hand away as she moved to her side, smoothing it back down. “You just can’t stay away, can you?”

“You’re one to talk,” Daria shot back, “You don’t even work in the ED.”

“I’m helping out down here today. It’s fun to shake things up every once in a while. See the different parts of the hospital.”

Daria scoffed. “I’ve seen them all, from both sides now. It’s all one big shit-hole.”

Casey moved to the computer, entering an order for a head CT. “We’ll get you out of here fast then - since you obviously hate it here _ so _much. Scanned and stitched up. An hour tops.”

Daria’s eyes softened. “Thank you.”

Casey knew Daria didn’t really hate Edenbrook. The woman loved this place with all her heart, and would probably give anything to be a part of it again.

She removed the bandage from Daria’s forehead ten minutes later. The CT scan was processing, and the wound _ definitely _ needed stitches in the meantime. She could have directed an intern to do them, but Casey was determined to hold her own with the old surgeon this go around. 

“What’s the damage?” Daria asked as Casey brushed a swab over the jagged gash to clean it out.

“It’ll definitely scar,” Casey said with a sigh as she placed the first stitch.

“There go my prospective dates for the weekend,” Daria said dryly. They both made eye contact, and found themselves smirking over the small bout of dark humor.

When Casey had finished the last of the stitches she peeled off her gloves, sitting back to admire her work. Daria’s eyes immediately fell to her hand.

“Where’s your ring?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together.

Casey was quiet as she applied ointment to a large plaster and stuck it over the stitches. She smiled weakly.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I see,” Daria said, leaning back on the bed. She tapped her fingers on the sheets, giving Casey a quizzical eye as her gaze drifted from her hand up to her wrist. She stared long and hard at the watch fastened there, something resembling recognition flashing in hers eyes.

Casey pulled her sleeve down to cover it.

“Are you going to tell him?” Daria asked quietly after a tense moment had passed between them.

Casey took a deep breath, nipping that particular conversation in the bud as she stood up from her stool. “I’m gonna go check on your CT results, okay? I’ll be back in a few.”

Casey exited the room, rolling back her sleeve to glance down at Bryce’s watch. She’d taken it to get repaired after Ethan had cracked the face, and had worn it ever since, carrying this small piece of him wherever she went.

Her heart ached every morning as she picked it up off her nightstand and slipped it over her hand. She had hoped to hear from him by now. For him to check on her, call her, write her. But their communication had become non-existent once more. 

Things had gone back to the way they were before.

Back to her twisted semblance of normal.

She was foolish she supposed, to believe things would’ve been different between them after his visit. That they could be friends again. He was still married, after all. He’d gone back to his husband, back to his life. 

She wondered if he ever thought of her.

Because she thought of him _ every damn day_. Every time she passed someone in teal or black scrubs or asked for a surgical consult, every time she accessed a supply closet or laid down to rest in an on-call room - there were constant reminders of him everywhere she turned. Memories she couldn’t shake from her head. Shadows that clung to her.

She couldn’t believe she’d lost him…twice now.

The nights were the worst. She would picture him every night as she twisted and turned in her sheets, wishing he were there lying beside her, holding her.

Just wishing, _somehow_. 

~)x(~

Bryce began to close his patient, a woman in forties who had arrived hemodynamically unstable via a helicopter with complaints of sudden, tearing abdominal pain. He’d been paged to the ED by Dr. Andrews when she’d first arrived, and had immediately ordered for her to be taken straight to Gallery Three.

Another ruptured AAA. The second one this week. The first one hadn’t made it, and he’d been damned determined to see to it that this one did.

She’d coded once on him, but had come back strong in the end. The graft had taken, and now the monitor behind him droned on in steady beats as he placed the last of the necessary staples into her skin.

The nurses took her away after that, up to the ICU where she would be heavily monitored for the next twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, Bryce took a moment for himself, stepping outside for a bit of fresh air - though fresh was a lenient term. A group of nurses were also out on the rooftop, chain-smoking and giggling incessantly. He rolled his eyes in their general direction before turning away.

God, when had he become so bitter? A few years ago he would’ve approached them, inserting himself right into the middle of their conversation. But these days…

He leaned back against the wall of the building with a long sigh, reaching up to pull off his surgical cap. He held it in his hands, staring down at the bright teal embroidery, thinking of nothing but Casey as he traced the letters. 

It was something that had always been his, but now, somehow, was also hers. Something that she’d kept in her possession for_ seven _ long years. God only knows why.

_ Damn it all to Hell _ \- he couldn’t get her out of his head. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the moment his plane had touched down, and it was driving him positively _ insane - _ in the evenings especially, now that he slept alone. He would toss this way and that, reaching out for her in the dead of night, cursing himself when he remembered that she was back in Massachusetts.

Back with Ethan _ fucking _Ramsey of all people.

His phone began to ring in his back pocket. He pulled it out, staring down at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but knew the area code.

It was Boston.

“Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end, and he hoped - _ prayed _ \- it wasn’t a wrong number. Prayed to God it was _ her. _

_ “Lahela?” _

Bryce recognized the voice. 

“Adams?” he asked, perplexed, “Is that you?”

“_The one and only, hot-shot.” _

Bryce chuckled. “It’s good to hear from you. How have you been? No complications, I hope.”

His surgeries rarely had complications. It was something he prided himself in.

_ “No, my ticker’s perfectly fine, thanks to you. But I am back in the ED again.” _ She sighed wearily. _ “These damn legs just don’t stay under me anymore. Took a spill and split my head in two. Dr. Valentine had to stitch me up.” _

He shuffled his feet, hoping his voice sounded casual. “Dr. Valentine…she’s with you?”

“_She was. Just stepped out to check my CT results.” _

“I see.”

A long pause. He wondered for a split second if the call had dropped.

_ “…aren’t you going to ask about her?” _Daria teased.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said smoothly. There was no way he was going to let his borderline obsession over his ex slip through - especially to Adams of all people. 

Another long pause.

_ “Did you hear she and Ethan separated?” _

Bryce felt his heart drop straight to his stomach. He placed his free hand back against the brick, feeling momentarily unbalanced as he adjusted his grip on his phone. “They _ what?_”

_ “Well, I _ assume _ they’re separated. She’s not wearing her ring - and when I asked about it, she got all defensive. Practically ran from the room.” _ There was a soft note to Daria’s voice as she continued to speak. _ “Do you know what she _ is _ wearing though? A rather swanky wristwatch. Reminds me of the one I got for you after you passed your boards.” _

“I accidentally left it behind,” Bryce admitted guiltily, “I’d wondered where. When I called the hotel they said they hadn’t seen it.” He swallowed hard. “She was wearing it?”

There was a smile in her voice. _ “She was. That’s why I called. Just...thought you outta know.” _

Bryce didn’t know what to do with this sort of information. It was almost too much to process. He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that Casey and Ethan were no longer together. What had happened between them? Was she okay? Where was she staying now? He had so many questions all of a sudden. Questions Adams couldn’t answer.

But ones he desperately needed answers to.

He took a deep breath. “Adams, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

_ “I bet you will,” _she said, knowing laughter in her voice.

He sighed softly as he ended the call, pulling up the app he’d used to book his flight back back to California. He quickly set a new destination, then ran inside to clock out. He gave a lame excuse for needing to go home to the Chief, then shrugged when he was told he’d be written up for the unexcused departure.

Like he cared. He would be writing an email on the plane telling them he had quit anyways.

Because he was going home, for good this time.

~)x(~

Daria had the most wicked of smiles plastered across her face when Casey returned to the room to discharge her. It unnerved her completely.

“What’s that look for?” Casey dared to ask, crossing her arms as she arched an eyebrow.

“What look?” Daria said, her grin widening, “No look here. Are those my papers?”

Casey nodded, handing them over. “Everything’s clear, and transport should be here within the hour to take you home. Did you have any questions?”

Daria bit her lip. “No…but perhaps I can give you a bit of advice before you go?”

Casey smiled warily. “Okay…I’ll bite. Shoot.”

Daria sighed, one of the papers slipping from her fingers as they shook.

“Dr. Valentine…life is short and unpredictable. I mean, look at me. You knew me back in the day, and were there the day that I…” Daria’s eyes grew glossy as she reminisced, probably all too clearly, about the day she’d first fallen, her legs giving out right in the middle of a cholecystectomy. “All I’m saying is, don’t let life pass you by. You’re still so young…but you never really know how much time you have left. Make sure to take a few chances along the way.”

Casey felt her face fall. “Daria…”

Daria quickly raised a hand. “Ugh, no - none of _ that_. I’m not trying to have some sort of girlish bonding moment with you.”

Casey walked over to her, wrapping her arms around the older woman, her chin resting on her shoulder. “Too late.”

She was surprised when Daria held her back.

The rest of Casey’s shift was nothing but back-to-back work. A multiple car pile up on the highway had given them three traumas that afternoon, two of which were unstable. She’d directed the surgical residents towards their care while she’d seen to the many, many medical patients who’d checked in through the front door, one right after the other.

A recent influx of flu had everyone ages nine to ninety-nine coming in for even the most mild of symptoms, and she’d probably swabbed at least twenty people throughout the remainder of her shift who turned out to have nothing more than the common cold. It had been exhausting. A constant runaround between triage and the lab.

But at least patients like that were quick to flip out. They didn’t linger, clogging the system. Simply got their results and went on their way.

By the time her shift ended she was dead tired. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel. She needed a shower and a long night’s rest. Screw food - she could eat in the morning. At nine it was far too late to care.

Shift change for the nurses had been at seven, so the parking lot was completely different from how it’d looked this morning. Night shift had fewer employees, that was true, but just as many cars since the odd hours weren’t favorable for ride-sharing.

She clicked the unlock button on her car, listening for it’s quiet little beep. Hell if she remembered where she’d parked it after a day like today, especially now that the lot had changed. She followed the noise it made, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, and finally spotted her headlights in the final row. She felt her back stiffen though, noticing a dark figure leaning back against the hood. 

Who the hell had the _ audacity-_

“Hey!” she shouted, feeling her eyebrows draw together as she made a beeline for her vehicle.

She was so _ not _in the mood to deal with this type of sh-

“Hey, yourself,” a deep voice said as the figure pushed off the car with both hands, taking a step forward into the light.

Casey stopped short, feeling her bag slip from her shoulder and land loudly on the asphalt.

She’d know that voice anywhere, and that face - God, how she’d _ missed _it. Her heart swelled in her chest, her eyes watering. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming.

“Bryce?”

He smiled softly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. “Hey, Valentine.”

She couldn’t contain the joy that pierced her heart in that moment, hearing him call her by that name. Tears sprang from her eyes as she ran to him, all but jumping into his arms. He caught her as he fell back a step, holding her tightly as he fought to regain his balance. She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest, rich as it rippled through her.

“You came back,” she said, the words catching in her throat as she pulled back to look up at him. She was at a loss for words. She lifted a hand to his face, holding his strong jaw in her palm. He leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting to the watch on her wrist.

“I had to,” he said quietly, “I left something behind.”

Casey’s breath hitched.

“This…” he said, raising his left hand to glide his long fingers over the glass face of the watch. Her skin tingled as they lightly brushed her wrist, and she nearly stopped breathing as she stared down at his hand, eyes wide, noticing his ring was gone.

He took her chin in his other hand, tilting her face up so their eyes meant.

“…and you.”

She was breathless as he bent down to kiss her, lips gentle as they brushed over hers, hesitantly at first, as if asking permission, and then harder, more feverishly as he pulled her close, his grip on her coat twisting.

Bryce had never been anything less than passionate once he’d gotten a taste for something he wanted, and she was quickly reminded of that as he smiled wickedly against her lips, turning them slowly to press her up against the driver’s side door of her car. He trapped her there, caging her between the hard steel of the vehicle and his strong, lean body, one hand on her waist, the other pressed flat against the hood as he encased her in his essence.

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Her hands roamed down the planes of his chest over his shirt, down to his shoulders, his back, his perfect ass. Whatever she could reach as she felt her knees grow weak. It was wanton and desperate behavior, but she didn’t care. She was starved for this, starved for _ him. _

She absently thought of the security cameras overhead as she brought one hand to the front of his shirt, tugging him forward, pressing her hips against his.

_ Let ‘em watch. _

It wouldn’t be the first time. After all, they’d done a hell of a lot worse than kiss in this parking lot back in the day.

She thought of that night as his tongue entered her mouth, sliding against hers in a way that drove her wild with lust. He bit down on her lower lip, pulling back with a wolfish smile.

“You’re thinking about the day you first bought this car,” he said, desire dripping in his voice as he tilted her head back and kissed the hollow of her throat. She shivered, hands falling to rest on his hips as he trailed his lips up the side of her neck, nipping gently at her earlobe. “I am too.”

She was breathing heavily, picturing it in her mind. He’d been kissing her one night after work, and she’d felt daring that evening, reaching behind him to pop the door handle to her back seat. He’d raised an eyebrow at her boldness as she’d tugged him down to her, the two of them falling across the leather eagerly.

It was been awkward, full of giggles and uncomfortable angles, but it had also been wild - _ thrilling_. They’d screwed like horny teenagers, knowing damn well they could be caught at any moment by one of their co-workers, but they hadn’t cared. It had only been about them in that moment as she’d eventually found her pace, straddling his hips, her skirt spilling across his thighs as she’d ridden him, hands gripping the headrest behind them as he’d buried his face in her neck…the same way he was now.

“I’m staying at a hotel,” she said weakly, bringing herself back to the present.

He leaned back, looking down at her with a challenge in his eyes. “So am I, and I bet mine’s nicer.”

Casey reached into her pocket, holding up a glossy white keycard between them. Bryce mimicked the motion, pulling a silver one from his wallet. He snatched hers from her fingers, hiding them both behind his back. 

“Left or right, Valentine?” he whispered, eyes falling to her lips hungrily.

Her pulse was racing. “…left.”

His smile made her dizzy as he slowly revealed the silver card. He raised it between them, sliding the corner of it slowly down her chest between her breasts over her blouse.

“My place it is,” he said smugly, reaching into the pocket of her white lab coat for her keys.

He pulled them out slowly, dragging them over her thigh through the many layers of fabric. 

They drove in silence, the air between them crackling with heat and electricity. Six minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of a massive hotel, one with sparkling fountains and elegant up-lighting.

Bryce tossed her keys to a valet before crossing to her side of the car. Then he opened the door, smiling down at her as he offered his hand.

She took it without hesitation, the feeling warm and sure as his fingers wrapped hers and he pulled her to her feet.

.

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

They crossed the marble lobby professionally, fingers loosely intertwined, hands swinging casually between them as if they were any other couple. They kept a respectable distance apart, the only tell of their impure thoughts the sideways glances they gave each other as they made their way towards the elevator. 

The doors opened and they stepped inside. Casey almost couldn’t believe what she was doing. She wondered what this was, what it meant. But those thoughts vanished as she watched Bryce step forward and press the button for the ninth floor. He turned to her, eyes tender and full of adoration, and she fell apart, knowing_ exactly _ what this was as the elevator began to move.

It was _ them_. 

It was simple and easy and _ good_. It didn’t have to be complicated, it just _ was. _

A mischievous look suddenly fell over his features, his fingers drifting down the control panel and coming to a hover over the e-stop. He pulled the ring without hesitation, turning to scoop her up in his arms as the elevator came to a screeching halt, hands sure and strong as they gripped the undersides of her thighs and lifted her. Her legs wrapped his hips as he pressed her up against the cool, lacquered wall, one of her hands finding the metal safety bar behind her and gripping it for balance as he leaned in to kiss her with unbridled passion, the kind he hadn’t been able to show in public.

He ground his hips upwards against hers, making her groan into his mouth as she felt his arousal pressing against her core through the thin fabric of her pants. He grinned against her lips, seemingly satisfied that he could still draw such noises from her. Then he carefully set her back down with a small laugh, turning to press the e-stop back into place. They glanced at one another as the elevator once more began to move, and Casey felt a vivid blush creep up her cheeks.

“I’ve always loved that color on you,” Bryce said nonchalantly as the doors opened and they stepped off, “You turn such interesting shades of pink. _ Everywhere_, if memory serves.”

Casey nearly tripped over his blunt words, She’d forgotten how forward he could be. He’d always spoken exactly what was on his mind, and had never had any reservations or shame about it. 

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he said, pulling the silver key from his pocket and swiping it against the third door down. 

Casey should’ve hesitated. This was too much - too fast - too soon.

…wasn’t it? 

But she didn’t. In fact, she couldn’t get through the door fast enough. Bryce smiled at her enthusiasm, hands on her waist as soon as the door clicked behind them, pressing her back against it as he kissed her impatiently, wasting no time as he slid her coat off her shoulders and slipped his calloused hands up under her blouse and across her belly. 

“God, you’re so _ soft,_” he said against her lips, hands roaming to her back to press her closer.

Casey felt his erection through his pants, pressing against her stomach.

“And you’re definitely _ not_,” she couldn’t help but tease as he bent to kiss her neck. She tilted her head back, relishing in the feeling as she reached down to cup him.

He hissed at her touch. “With you in the room? _ Never._”

He lifted her once more, turning towards the large bed in the center of the room, one strong hand on the small of her back for balance as he carried her over to it.

The dark comforter was soft as a cloud as he gently laid her across it, stepping back to pull his shirt up over head. He tossed it aside, standing there in the soft orange lighting of the room, every inch of his exposed skin absolutely delicious before her eyes.

“See something you like?” he teased quietly, gazing down at her, “Because I sure as hell do.”

He stepped forward, deft fingers quickly finding the button on her pants. He popped it open, then began to slide them off her legs with a purposeful, maddening slowness. She felt her breathing grow ragged with anticipation as a chill crept over her newly exposed skin. With her pants discarded he placed a hand over one of her knees, pushing it aside to spread her legs wide.

The look on his face was pure animal as his free hand slid up her bare leg, squeezing her thigh gently before cupping her intimately through her panties. He held his hand there, not moving, and she squirmed, needing more, desperate for him to pleasure her with the hands she knew were magic. But he didn’t. He simply stepped back, face deathly serious, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms across his chest.

She placed a hand behind her, propping herself up to give him a questioning look. In response he simply stared down at her, eyes intense.

“Take them off,” he instructed, eyes raking down her body.

Casey's heart nearly stopped; she knew this game. She did as she was asked, wiggling her hips and letting the lacy fabric slip off her foot. They hit the ground silently, a knot forming in her belly as she imagined how exposed she must look to him, completely bare from the waist down.

“Now touch yourself,” he said in a low voice.

She swallowed hard, meeting his eyes as she moved a hand between her legs and did as he ordered, circling her fingers wantonly where she craved he would. 

“That’s a good girl.”

She bit her lip, watching his breathing grow ragged as he drank in the sight of her pleasuring herself, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him, knowing how much he loved this sort of thing.

Realizing he still found her irresistible.

She placed a single finger inside herself, and that was all it took for him to press off the wall and drop to his knees at the foot of the bed. 

He took one of her legs and swung it over his shoulder, kissing the inside of her thigh before biting the skin there.

“My turn,” he said hoarsely, spreading her other leg with his hand. 

Casey gasped at the sudden feeling of his mouth against the most private parts of her body, of his tongue swiping and swirling her repeatedly. One of her hands twisted in the comforter, the other reaching to grab the back of his hair.

That’s when she remembered it was shorter now. She couldn’t grip it, and instead simply slid her fingers upwards through it, tilting his head _ exactly _where she needed it.

He slid two fingers inside of her as she came, and she felt herself riding his hand with no reservations as waves of pleasure rolled over her, whispering his name repeatedly, blind to anything else that may have been going on in the world in that moment. 

When she came back down she was breathing heavily. Bryce had lazily crossed his arms, leaning on her hips to look up at her.

“Don’t get too relaxed, Valentine. I’m nowhere near done with you,” he promised.

She smiled, sitting up as he stood, watching him slide his own pants down and step out of them. 

Time had been so kind to him. Or perhaps he’d worked his ass to make _ sure _ time hadn’t touched him. Either way, he was still _ breathtaking_. Male physique at its peak, all hard angles and cut muscle. 

She had to touch him.

She slid forward off the bed, lowering to her knees as her fingers hooked the waistband of his boxers and slid them down his legs. His hands twisted in her hair as she leaned forward, swiping her tongue up the impressive length of him before lifting her hand to stroke his cock with practiced skill.

She tilted her head slightly, listening to the little sounds of pleasure slipping from his lips. She knew he could be louder than that. She took him into her mouth, one hand gripping the back of his thigh, nails digging in. 

_ “Fuck, Case…” _

That was more like it.

~)x(~

Bryce couldn’t take much more of this. She was killing him, and he wasn’t ready for this to be over. He pulled away from her, bending down to lift her back up to the bed. She moved backwards with him, slow and suggestive as she centered herself in the middle of the mattress, and he leaned over her, propping one hand above her head as he reached between their bodies to guide himself to her.

She was hot and wet and _ ready_, but he still glanced up at her, one last time, just to check. To be _ sure _ that this was what she wanted.

“_Please_,” she whispered, as if in agony. 

He sure as hell didn’t need to be asked twice. He entered her in one swift stroke, burying himself within her tight, welcoming walls all the way to the hilt. She cried out pleasurably, hands gripping his upper arms as she adjusted to the sensation of him filling her, nails raking down his skin as he began to move within her.

He didn’t have it in him to take this part slow. He needed her, as much of her as he could get, and as quickly as he could get it. He leaned back, gripping the underside of each of her knees to pull her roughly against him. He drove deep inside her, again and again as she clung desperately to the bed, whimpers slipping from her lips as she raised her hips to take him deeper.

Her moans, the way she was panting for him - it was a high he never wanted to come down from. He needed to hear more of it. He dropped one of her legs and reached down between them, fingers circling her sensitive peak as he sped up his movements. She came a second time, this time closing tightly around him, making him gasp loudly as he too fell over the edge. 

He gripped her hips tightly, rocking into her until the very last of his tremors had passed, then immediately felt guilt shoot straight through him. He quickly pulled out of her, damning himself for not asking beforehand if that would be okay.

When they’d been together he’d never bothered. She’d been on birth control and they’d had the _ what-if _discussion early on...but this wasn’t then. 

This was now.

But she didn’t look concerned in the least as she sat up and placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to hers in a heated kiss. She kissed him hard, still high off her own pleasure, and her ecstasy flowed through him.

He rolled off her, laying back against the bed with an arm above his head to catch his breath. She turned to her side, leaning into him with a satisfied smile, one arm draping lightly across his waist.

They stayed like that a long time, simply lying against one another, listening to each other’s breathing, basking in the feeling of skin on heated skin. He stroked her hair, and she nuzzled against his chest, the silk of her blouse soft as the fabric shifted against him.

But neither of them spoke. 

For a long time.

One of them would eventually have to speak…right? There was so much to say, after all. 

But where to start?

Eventually Casey was the one to break the silence, and when she did it was deafening, blunt and sharp all at once. He watched her face fall, as if she was finally sobering from a night of wild drinking.

“Bryce…do you think it’s too late for us?”

He felt his heart break, hearing the grief in her voice as she whispered the question. She sounded so full of doubt, so wary. All the while he had never been so sure of anything before. He brushed her hair back, tilting her face up to look down at her. It felt like she’d just stuck a knife in him, but he swallowed his pride when he saw how clouded her eyes were. For Christ’s sake, they were damn near _ haunted _in appearance.

“It’ll never be too late,” he said quietly, reassuring her as he traced the edges of her face with his fingertips. He turned his body towards hers, holding her waist as he touched his forehead to hers. “It’s you and me, Case. It always has been.”

“I never should have let you go,” she said regretfully, closing her eyes as they began to water.

“No,” he said sternly. He kissed her once, lightly. “_I _ never should have left. That was all me.”

“You had to,” she reasoned, “It was the opportunity of a lifetime.” One of her hands traced a line down his arm. “Besides, think of what a difference you’ve made since you went out West. All those LVAD patients...you’ve changed their lives.”

Bryce was thoughtful a moment, then smiled sadly. “I could fix a thousand hearts in this lifetime Case, but that still wouldn’t justify having broken yours. You and I…we lost so much time, and it was all because of me. All because I was so damned determined to _ be _somebody.”

“Then I guess we better make the most of the time we have left,” she said simply.

He felt his smile soften, rolling her over so she was under him once more.

“I guess we better,” he said, fingers drifting to the hem of her blouse. How was this damn thing still on, anyhow? He slowly lifted it, pulling it over her head, then froze, staring down at her stomach. He felt his face pale, his hand drifting up to trace one of the small red lines that marked her skin. 

“Casey…”

He’d barely touched her when her hand shot up, seizing his wrist.

_ “Don’t,” _ she pleaded, her other hand moving to cover herself up. Shame clouded her face, as well as something else - embarrassment? - and Bryce felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

She didn’t know he knew. Didn’t know he _understood_.

He took both of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together as he slowly lifted them above her head and pressed them into the bed.

“Don’t you _ ever _ feel like you have to hide _ any _part of yourself from me, Case,” he whispered sternly.

“Bryce…” The way she said his name then…he hated it. It was fearful, as if she were scared he would - What? Judge her? “I can explain-”

“I already know,” he said, cutting her off as he let go of her hands and sat back on his knees, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She was silent then, reserved as he touched her again, tracing a single, long line with his finger, feather-light and tender. She stiffened at first, then relaxed, and he idly traced each and every mark, eyes soft as he stared down at the evidence of a torment he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy.

How long had she been in labor - and all for nothing? Hours? He couldn’t even begin to imagine the sheer amount of physical pain she must've endured.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite as brave as you,” he admitted quietly, “What you went through…no one should ever have to experience that kind of loss." Guilt raked through him. "I just wish I'd been there for you. God, I _should’ve _ been there for you.”

“You’re here now,” she said quietly, lifting a hand to his arm.

He laid his hand over hers, squeezing gently. “I am…and I’m never leaving you again. You’re stuck with me for good this time, Valentine.”

She smiled weakly. “Promise?”

He bent to kiss her, slow and sweet. “I promise.”

She returned his kiss passionately, fingers pulling him back down, beckoning him closer.

Their second time making love that night was just that - slow and honest and meaningful. He’d kissed every inch of her skin he could find, re-learning the hidden curves and secrets of her body, and she’d returned the favor, tongue and teeth and lips touching places she’d never dared to sample before.

It was intimate and frightening, and spoke volumes to him. 

Eventually he’d watched her eyes drift towards the dining set under the large open window along the wall. She’d turned to him, a question in her eyes, and he’d smiled softly, allowing her to pull him to his feet and press him down into one of the chairs. She’d climbed into his lap, and he’d stared up at her in awe as she’d taken pleasure in riding his body, hands clasped on the window ledge to either side of him, the distant city lights below dancing a thousand different colors across her skin.

When they came down the second time, her head was resting on his shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing circles on the small of her back. She sighed contently, and he turned to kiss her again.

God…he would never grow tired of this. Of the sweet taste of her mouth and and the salty flavor of her skin. He kissed her again - on her lips, shoulder, breast, the back of her hand. Anything he could reach, he kissed. Savored.

Eventually he eased her off his lap. He watched her stand, slightly off-balance, and reached out to steady her.

“You okay?” he asked, a sly smile creeping up his face.

“A little sore,” she admitted.

He stood up, reaching down to scoop her up in his arms. He cradled her against his chest.

“Then how about I show you why I wanted to come back to my hotel in the first place?” he offered.

An hour later they were both still sitting in the large, ornate bathtub of the suite, his back against the ceramic, hers pressed to his chest. He held her there, safe in his arms in the warm, comforting water. She was half-asleep, but hadn’t wanted to get out when he’d offered.

He played with her wet hair, combing it with his fingers, and watched as a playful smile crossed her lips.

“It’s the middle of the week. What’s your boss gonna say when you don’t show up for work tomorrow?” she asked.

Bryce shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now. I already emailed the Chief on the plane to let him know I quit.”

Casey stiffened against him, staring blankly ahead. “You can _ afford _that? To just up and quit your job?”

Bryce laughed. “I told you before I didn’t want to brag about my salary. Stop fishing.”

She was quiet, in deep thought for a long moment. “What’s the plan then? Are you coming back to Edenbrook?”

“Do you really want Ethan and I under the same roof?” he asked in all honesty.

She sighed heavily. “No.”

“What about you?” he asked, “Is Edenbrook the end all, be all for you? Or would you be willing to relocate?”

“To California?” she asked, her voice uneasy.

He kissed the top of her head. “No, not California.” He went back to playing with her hair, dragging a long auburn strand through his fingers. “I was thinking more along the lines of somewhere new completely. Somewhere neither of us have ever been.”

“A fresh start,” she said, warmth in her voice.

“A brand new adventure,” he offered.

She turned against him, her arms looping his neck. She searched his eyes, then spoke softly. “How would we decide where to go?”

He felt his heart soar. Was she saying yes? He leaned forward to kiss her lightly, then pulled back, grinning.

“Hear me out…”

~)x(~

“No. No way. We are _ not _ doing it this way,” Casey countered for the fifth time, taking another shot off the high-top at _ Donahue’s _and tipping it back.

They were both half-drunk, and she couldn’t stop laughing at Bryce’s suggestion. He’d printed off a map of the United States and had tacked it to the dart board in the corner of the bar, holding out a red dart to her.

He’d remembered she _ always _ threw red.

“Why not?” he asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. He pressed the dart into her palm, smiling. “Name one good reason.”

“I can name a hundred!” she laughed, holding the dart up between them, “What if it lands in the middle of god-forsaken nowhere? Montana, for instance. Do you really want to be a surgeon in _ Montana?_”

He leaned against the table, pointing a finger at her. “You know, you seem to have a lot of animosity towards Montana. Should we talk about that? You look like you want to talk about it. Let me guess - bad childhood road trip? Was Yellowstone _that_ disappointing?”

“Bryce, I’m _ serious_.”

“So am I,” he said, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Who cares where it lands. If we get there and we hate it, we’ll just throw another dart. Simple as that.”

She paused, searching his face. “You’re not joking, are you? You’re saying I throw this dart and you’ll go where it lands?”

He smiled softly. “I’ll go where you go…” He kissed her lightly, and she tasted the tequila on his lips. “…and _ you’ll _ go where the damn dart lands.” He laughed. “Come on. Just throw it, Case. Take a chance.”

That’s what Daria had told her the other day. That life was short. To take chances.

She turned towards the board before she could change her mind, closing her eyes tightly as she tossed the dart. She held her breath as she heard a thunk, then slowly dared to peek…

…and realized she had missed the board completely.

“That one doesn’t count,” she said stubbornly, reaching for another dart.

“That’s what you would’ve said had it hit Montana,” Bryce mumbled under his breath.

She gave him a sideways glance and tossed the second dart. It hit the sheet of paper in the lower right corner, and her eyes went wide as she turned to Bryce.

“Florida…?”

He smiled, pulling her into his arms. “Florida it is.”

She placed her two weeks notice the next morning, but didn’t tell her co-workers she was leaving until her very last day. Her news was met with tears, nurses stopping to hug her in the hallways and fellow doctors shaking her hand at every opportunity they could, thanking her for all her years of service. It was all so bittersweet. She turned over care of her patients to capable hands, then wandered the halls, taking in the sights of the hospital that had been a staple of her life for over a decade now.

She knew every tile, every wall of this place - inside _ and _out. It was a home away from home for her - but also, at the end of the day…just a building.

Just a hospital.

She wrote a note to Ethan, because she couldn’t bare the idea of saying goodbye to him face-to-face a second time. She left it on his desk while he was in a meeting, the smooth mahogany surface so familiar as her fingers drifted over it. In it, she’d wished him well. She’d wished him all the happiness in the world…because deserved it. He really did. That and so much more.

At a quarter to six she was sitting in her office, the empty bookshelves staring back at her, the walls bare where she’d taken down her framed credentials. She was reflecting quietly at all she’d accomplish here when her phone suddenly buzzed, breaking her trance. She pulled it from her pocket with a smile as she saw Bryce’s name light up the screen.

_ Ready to go? _

She was.

He met her outside the front lobby, and was smiling like an idiot at the bottom of the steps as she stepped out into the evening light. She went to him, stepping into his arms, and he kissed the top of her hair before turning them back to face the building. Her head fell to his shoulder, and she reached up to hold his hand as they both gazed up at the Edenbrook Hospital sign for the last time.

“Do you remember the day we met?” Bryce asked wistfully, squeezing her fingers with a gentle pressure.

“How could I forget?” she chucked, “I turned around and there you were - practically naked.”

“You couldn’t stop staring,” he teased.

“Neither could you,” she whispered.

He turned to her, hands falling to her waist tenderly. 

“That’s because I was starstruck,” he said quietly, “I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that I was done for. That my life would never be the same. You ruined me, Case - in all the best of ways. I fell in love with you that day...and have loved you every day since.”

.

.

.


End file.
